Love and Mortality
by Bineshii
Summary: Trip struggles to find the words to talk to T'Pol about something which would be an important issue in any HumanVulcan romance.  Woven into this, are his feelings about his sister.


Disclaimer: No filthy lucre changed

Note: Trip and T'Pol work through their feelings on the different life spans of humans and Vulcans. This story was inspired by the book Sarek by A.C. Crispin, the part where Amanda is concerned about the fact that her life span is shorter than Sarek's. The time of this story is in what would be the 5th or even 6th season of Enterprise. Sorry this is very angsty, with a slight touch of humor and it struggles with spirituality.

Love and Mortality

By Bineshii

Trip sat on his bunk with Lizzy's photo in his lap. He picked up the framed photo and settled his back against the wall. Then he brushed his fingers down the photo as if he were combing Lizzy's long blond hair as he used to, to remove tangles from a tree climbing six-year-old's soft fine tresses - even though this photo was of the graceful, accomplished young woman she had been at the time of her death. Though she had been gone a couple of years now, he always felt a brief sharp pang when he first took down her photo to hold it up close. But then, the love that was between them welled up and surrounded him and he smiled in his impish way.

"Hello kid. Just wanted to catch ya up on my life. I hope ya can hear me." Trip unconsciously squeezed the back of his neck with one thumb and forefinger, the way Lizzy used to sneak up on him and do. Then he dropped his hand and spoke again. "T'Pol explained about katras. I want to believe in them, just for you… Ya know, I put aside all this life-beyond-death stuff when I was thinkin' about ethics in high school. But I didn't have such…a…need for it until you…"

Trip sighed and swallowed and sat quietly for a few seconds.

"Anyway, T'Pol and I…but I've told you all about that, Pumpkin. She is as beautiful as you…well…in a different way. Heck, you two are the most important women…people… in my life, except for Mom, of course, and Dad, and Jon, and Malcolm, who are men, but you know... And I'm ramblin' on here when I should be minding ma engines. The engines drive the ship, but you and T'Pol… you two drive my life." Trip sighed, stood, and placed the photo back in its place of honor. "See ya later sweetie, and look out for ma engines from your viewpoint now, will ya? Ok, see ya soon, on this side or on your side. In my line of work, you just never know when that will be."

Trip gave the photo one last wistful smile before turning away and leaving his quarters. He always started his day with Lizzy now. During the first two years on Enterprise, he had hardly given Lizzy a thought between her letters, but now his quarters were something of a shrine to her. Even though he virtually lived in T'Pol's quarters, where the female touch always made for a more comfortable living space, he told himself he was keeping his quarters as get away space. Besides, he liked having a private office to mull over difficult engineering problems. His relationship with T'Pol was supposed to be secret, so using his quarters for private meetings with members of his staff helped maintain that fiction.

….

T'Pol was aware of Trip waking, dressing, and slipping out of their quarters a half hour before he had to. He was trying to be so quiet about it, but the shift in weight on the bunk and the absence of his warmth woke her. Of course, a human trying to be quiet worked only for human ears. Sharp Vulcan hearing was tuned to his every movement. "_Thank you, T'hy'la, for trying not to wake me, but that will never work_." And she felt him brush her mind with the telepathic version of a sheepish smile and enveloping warmth, followed by a whispered "just gettin' to work early again".

Where did he go? His quarters probably. For a private meditation? Maybe. She had been teaching him some intermediate techniques and he often become stiff instead of relaxed because he was trying too hard. It made their joint meditations more difficult for her, but that was to be expected when a student advanced to the next level. So maybe he was practicing to make it easier for her. So thoughtful. So logical of him. So almost… Vulcan… in his caring for her. But then, courtesy was as much a part of human culture as it was of Vulcan culture. T'Pol ordered her thoughts on the day ahead and rose to set her feet on the small bedside rug – one of her adaptations to counter the cold metal floor. She centered herself and breathed deeply before listing the day's activities in her mind. How did she ever get by in the days before her first thoughts upon waking were of her t'hy'la?

….

They met for lunch.

"Now don't go calculatin' the odds again, but when I was thinkin' of Lizzy's all too brief life, the thing about human and Vulcan lifespans popped into my mind again. We really oughta discuss it." Trip had been framing this conversation in his mind all morning while working on some minor adjustments in engineering.

T'Pol set her fork down to emphasize her words. "Trip, it is not logical to dwell on things that cannot be helped. We are in Starfleet. Either one of us could be gone tomorrow. Every minute that we both live is an opportunity for us to be together. It would be illogical to squander the time in unproductive speculation on its duration."

"But T'Pol, isn't it logical to discuss our feelin's on such matters, so we can purge the emotional content?" He gave her one of his maddingly impish and triumphant smiles, as he often did when he thought he had said something more logical than she had. It both gratified and irritated her. Contradictory emotions. She and Trip were all about emotions oozing through little pinholes they stuck in each other's logic.

T'Pol stood and picked up her lunch dishes. "Having a discussion with you is often like a Vulcan child trying to explain to her pet sehlat why it should not urinate inside the house." And the next thing Trip saw was T'Pol's neat little backside walking away from him, leaving what he thought was wining logic draining to the floor like a sehlat's liquid by-product. He sighed, and then smiled to himself. Next time. I'll get her next time.

It always amused Trip that people who were supposedly so logical and rational could be so deeply mystical. Were Vulcans just as contradictory as humans? Sure they were! They did mathematical calculations way past the decimal point but had priests officiating at weddings. They ordered their lives by logic but clothed all-important rites of passage in ritual and symbolism. And they had katras. Katras were souls as far as Trip could figure. But dang it, T'Pol would never admit to the fact that "Vulcans did not live by logic alone" as he paraphrased the human saying. It was so maddening. You could not win an argument with a Vulcan whether it was based on logic or not. It was impossible to get past that impassive green-blooded stubbornness.

What he had wanted to say was: "Consider our situation. If you think ahead fifty or sixty, and maybe if we're lucky, seventy years, I'll grow old and maybe go through a lingerin' illness. Then I'll die, leaving you in middle age. I'll feel guilty because I'm leavin' you and you'll feel resentful because I'm leavin' you. Now, all the preparation and techniques for suppression of emotions will not stop those feelings from occurrin' at that time. T'Pol, I have promised to love and protect you till death do us part. But even though that's enough for a Human marriage, it's not enough for a Human/Vulcan marriage. Somethin' more is needed here and I don't know what…but somethin'. And we need to figure out what that is." Trip knew these questions would stay near the surface until he worked them through with T'Pol. Engineering problems, you just worked on till they were solved. Trip had the tools and the confidence to tackle any engineering problem, but these relationship problems seemed a lot tougher.

….

The companionway between engineering and the ship's machine shop was quiet now, so Trip's thoughts flowed. Why did the right moment, when he knew exactly how to say it, come at such an inconvenient time? He had broached the subject at lunch, but it was only now, late in his work shift, that the correct words occurred to him. Trip lengthened his stride as much as he could while holding the generator in both his hands, and caught up with T'Pol who was walking slowly while reading a padd. She glanced at him and stopped.

"T'Pol." Trip caught his breath. "Got a minute?"

"Of course Commander," T'Pol gave him a patient professional look, squaring her shoulders and holding the padd behind her back as if at attention. Three crewmen were passing them, speculating on what sort of late afternoon break treat Chef would have for them today.

Peering beyond her, Trip watched the crewmen continuing on to the mess hall without taking note of him or T'Pol. He bent down to place the generator on the deck so he could put both hands on her shoulders. "I feel I can say this now. So I better, cause I've been tryin' to figure out how to say it, and when, for quite some time. Okay?"

"Trip, I know your moods. This sounds like a serious discussion, something more logically discussed anywhere but this companionway."

"By the time we find a private place, I may have lost the momentum, T'Pol." Trip touched the tip of a finger under her chin. "This is so simple it's hard to say, but here goes. Someday, after I'm gone, it's ok if you find someone else. In fact, it's more than okay." Trip moved one hand and lightly squeezed the back of her neck. That settled him somehow, he couldn't remember why. But it helped him to echo his words in the empathy of their bond. He gazed into her eyes and said, "I know you're not a person who is…well…a loner. And he gave her a tentative grin to soften his words as he felt her Vulcan pride start to bristle. "To humans, Vulcans look like they prefer twenty-three hours of solitude out of every twenty-four. I thought that too. But you taught me different. So I will come back and haunt you till you remarry. Got that? Okay?" And his grin widened into that irresistible smile that he knew went straight to T'Pol's heart.

"That's all? That's all you wanted to tell me?" T'Pol wrapped her hand around two of Trip's fingers, raised one eyebrow above deeply serious dark eyes, and whispered "T'hy'la, rest assured that any loneliness I will experience will be of my own choice… because I will need it to wrap around me so that I can bask in the clear memories that only a Vulcan can know. That will be enough to see me through to the time our katras join again."

An approaching footfall on the deck grating made them both drop their hands. They stood in silence while their captain passed, sparing them only a quizzical glance.

"Oh…T'Pol, that well may be." Trip dropped his eyes to the deck, sighed, and looked back up at her. "but if it isn't, I just wanted you to know it would be more important to me for you to be happy than to insist on myself as the only one who could make you happy." Trip touched the tip of her nose and sighed again. "Give it time to sink in. It's important for us to sort out our feelin's on this. In a logical way of course." Trip smiled sheepishly and broke eye contact to bend down and pick up his generator.

T'Pol crossed her arms, hugging her padd to her chest. Her eyebrows drew together slightly. "I am an adult. So are you. Our two cultures have known of this basic physical difference in our species since the week after First Contact. Who put the thought in your mind that we have not accepted this?"

"My sister."

"Your sister? But she is…"

"Yes. As is your mother, but you talk to her. You, the most logical, rational being that I know…talk to your mother even though she is gone."

"I talk to her katra. It is simply the logical thing to do when I need her."

Trip was trying to balance the generator and talk. "I didn't believe that at first. But the concept of katras has sorta grown on me."

T'Pol nodded and turned from Trip, reclaiming her professional demeanor. Briefly she turned back. "I acknowledge your concern Commander. We will speak of this later." She walked away, resuming her perusal of the padd, because her sensitive hearing had picked up the approach of another person.

….

Just before retiring that evening, after Trip had completed the parts order for the captain's approval, he suddenly realized that he now believed in katras, but he still couldn't use the human word 'soul'. It was a concept he had rejected in his own culture, but could give credence to, or at least the benefit of doubt, in someone else's culture. Trip did not know the exact point he started to accept the existence of katras. He had asked Jon about Surak's katra. Did it really exist? If such a rationalist as Jon thought so, and really believed he had carried one, Trip could just about let go of his last remaining doubts. Jon had reassured him that katras were real.

Regardless, Trip had a need to talk to Lizzy. No matter if she heard him or not, it still helped. It had helped for months now, going through the ritual he had built up around the viewing of her photo at least once a day. So now, belief accompanied ritual for him. He wondered which really came first for most people – ritual or belief? Belief or need? Did it matter, actually? What mattered was people, the people close to him.

So after a quiet dinner with T'Pol, and before their meditation and bed, Trip had returned to his quarters and completed the order form. He then went through his private ritual of taking Lizzy's photo down. It involved two deep breaths, the stilling of his thoughts, the centering of his body, the sitting on the edge of his bunk balancing the photo in both hands. He drank in her lovely smiling image. He thought she was happy. He needed her to be happy. Happy and vibrant was Lizzy's basic nature. And the loving feelings welled up again, in a protective circle around him, like what happened in meditation with T'Pol. Love: universal - transcending time, space, and, lifespan. And this time a gentle voice seemed to speak to him - felt as much as heard - like a telepathic contact shivering through him: "I have always been, and will always be, your sister."

Mii iw (The End)

**Note**: The last line was a paraphrase of Spock's disembodied speech at the end of the second Star Trek movie. And I really don't think I am a masochist, but with this story, I made myself cry (silly emotional human). Liz Tucker and her fate obsess me; that says more about me than it does about these characters, LOL. In another story, I figure out a way to let her survive, but Trip and his family don't know about it for several years. But that is definitely a story for another time…

Ojibwe tales, mostly animal tales, end with "mii iw" which means "that's all, the end". But you are only supposed to tell tales in winter and stop telling them when the first signs of spring show up or you will be getting blue welts on your skin to punish you. Guess that means I should look like an Andorian or a Bolian now, huh? (This story was written in late springtime)


End file.
